The Boy You Loved and The Man You Feared
by Just Silver
Summary: A desperate plan resurrected. Mystery, Intrigue, Romance...So how does Percy Weasley figure into all this?
1. Erwhat do you call this plan?

A/N: Here is the unrushed, slightly improved version of chapter one. Thank yous will come next chapter.  
  
***  
It was a desperate plan, but times were dark and promising to get darker. So they decided to fight fire with fire. And for that they'd need a spy...  
  
**********  
  
"Have you got it?" James Potter asked, blue eyes darting around the darkened alley nervously.  
  
"Here," replied a cloaked figure. He withdrew a pouch from under a black serge cape and dropped it into James' hand.  
  
"Bless you, Snape."  
  
"Spare me your prayers," Severus replied coldly. He disapparated into the night.  
"Prick," James muttered. He too disapparated.  
  
**********  
  
With the disappearance of Voldemort, the plan was abandoned. Well, not entirely....  
  
**********  
  
  
In the middle of a stone chamber, in the middle of nowhere a peculiar sight was to be seen. There stood a stone couch reminiscent of a tomb. Inscriptions, old and new in languages forgotten or better left unspoken were carved into its base, crackling with white-hot light and energy. This energy was palpable in the air above the couch, nearly glowing in its intensity. In the middle of this lay a teenage boy with his arms crossed like a bizarre Snow White or Sleeping Beauty waiting for his time to come.  
  
"Incredible," Dumbledore whispered. "It looks just like him."  
"That's because it is him," replied an old woman with pale blue eyes and steel gray hair.   
"Quite right, as always, Arabella," Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling.  
"He's in stasis right now. When we wake him, we'll need someone to train him," said Moody, leaning in as close as the energy barrier would let him. Dumbledore turned to his old friend.  
  
"Do you remember Mr. Black, Alastor?" Moody's original eye turned toward Dumbledore.  
  
"Hard to forget, Sirius. Such a promising lad."  
"Let me guess- he was ever vigilant?" teased Mrs. Figg. Moody grinned, a scary sight indeed.  
"Damn straight. He'll be leading the boy through the more active drills?"  
"Yes. Sirius has agreed to help with the more physical aspects of his training. Remus Lupin has agreed to tutor the boy in all other aspects. Severus will provide the occasional lesson in Potions." Dublmbledore replied faintly, still staring in awe at the boy before him. "Perfect..." he whispered.  
  
"Two questions, Albus."  
  
"Yes, Arabella?"  
"Where is he going to stay and what are we going to call him?" Mrs. Figg gestured to Tom with her chin, he voice low and her eyes anxious, as if she was afraid the boy might hear. Dumbledore smiled.  
"I know just the person. He's a bit uptight, but his heart's in the right place and his mother is an excellent knitter." Moody and Mrs. Figg exchanged wry glances. "As for what to name him, I'm rather partial to Tom." Moody sighed.  
"Why not? It failed horribly the first time, maybe the second time's the charm."  
"Optimism is not one of your strong suits, Alastor," Mrs. Figg replied sourly. Moody sniffed.   
"And charm isn't one of yours, Arabella."  
  
**********  
  
"Percy!" Percy's eyes flew open as his mother's shrill voice echoed up the crooked stairwell of the Burrow. Then he remembered that he wasn't in the Burrow. He was in his apartment, which meant that his mother had to be calling him from- the fireplace? His eyes landed on his beside clock.  
"Shit." He had exactly four minutes to shower, dress, pack, say hello to his mum and be in the office.  
  
Percy breezed into his living room fully dressed, brushing his still-wet hair and shoving rolls of parchment into his briefcase. "Hello, Mum."   
"Hello, Percy love. Breakfast?" asked Molly Weasley, offering a blueberry muffin.  
"I knew there was a reason you're my favorite mum," Percy said taking the muffin and kissing her on the cheek.  
"Percy, I'm your only mum," replied Molly. But that didn't prevent her from beaming at the compliment.  
"That's what you think," Percy chirped, replied taking a bite out of his breakfast.  
  
"You're in a good mood this morning."  
  
"Cheering charm. I need it. They put me under the sloppiest supervisor in the building. He's always a frazzled mess and he expects me to be the happiest person in the world. Honestly, if Mr. Crouch were here-" Percy stopped. He missed his old boss terribly and without him Percy lacked the same gusto for work. He still met his orders, but he never stayed up all night to finish a paper three days in advance for Augustin Radcliffe.  
  
"I know it's hard," Molly clucked sympathetically, "but things will get better. Your father was talking to Moody the other day. He seemed very interested in you. Maybe they'll transfer you to his department." Percy shrugged.  
"Maybe. Even working under Alastor Moody is better than analyzing the black market on flesh eating slugs with Radcliffe. I mean, really, slugs? I had more fun studying cauldron bottoms. Cauldrons are quite a masterpiece actually-"  
"Percy," interrupted Molly, sensing a lecture. "Hadn't you better be getting off to work?" Percy's eyes widened.  
"Right you are, Mum! I'll owl you later."   
"Have a nice day, dear."  
  
Percy apparated into the little cubbyhole of an office he'd worked out of for two years. He sighed. Already there was a stack of papers in his inbox. Most likely overflow from Radcliffe's desk. He settled in for what promised to be a long morning, making a mental note to get a bigger wastepaper basket and to ask for a raise.  
  
"Weasley!" Percy jumped three feet into the air.  
"Moody!" Then, with more dignity, "how may I help you?" Moody clunked into Percy's office.  
"Albus and I have a special program. It's highly secretive and we'd like you to participate."  
"Highly secretive?" Percy echoed, eyebrows raised. Moody lowered his voice and leaned in very close.  
"The outcome of this project can make or break us all." Percy's eyes widened.  
"Oh no! I want no part in any scheme you have that will most likely result in my father having to bail you out again before you get charged with a felony. What is it this time? Is your shadow a secret assassin, hired by You-Know-Who to kill you when your back is turned?"   
  
Moody sighed. "I remember when you were a very sweet boy, Percy. Is Radcliffe responsible for this? The man would annoy Job."   
  
Percy, for one, agreed wholeheartedly.   
  
"Listen to me. This is very important. We need you. Dumbledore asked for you specifically. And no, Fudge doesn't know about this because the man is a goddamned idiot. This is bigger than Fudge. This is bigger than all of us and I'm asking you to be a part of it. Please."  
  
It was on the tip of Percy's tongue. He could hear it in his head- a clear, resounding "no," but that's not what came out of his mouth. What came out of his mouth was "Alright, I'll help." Moody was delighted.   
"Excellent. Tell Radcliffe that you're transferring to my department and he can shove his papers up his - no, you wouldn't tell him that, but do let him know that you're leaving. I'll send it to your apartment this evening. It'll be waiting for you when you get home." Having said that Moody left, a gleam in his good eye. Struck with a thought, Percy rushed to the doorway of his office.  
"Moody! Does it explode?"  
  
**********  
  
Percy got home on time for once, not being simply swamped with useless paperwork. Inspired by Moody, he actually told his boss that he could take this job and shove it. He was very proud of himself and praying that he'd never have to work with Radcliffe again. He set down his briefcase and immediately began to look for any odd-shaped, ticking objects in his home.   
  
What he found was a boy. A tall, slender boy with black hair and startling amber eyes was just standing in his living room among boxes in various stages of unpacking, illuminated by the orange glow of the street lights. Percy could only gape. The boy looked down at the floor.  
  
"Ah, I see you've met your charge," Dumbledore said, smiling pleasantly.  
"My-my what?" Percy stammered.   
"Your charge. We need to keep him safe and I trust you implicitly."  
"Safe? Me? What? But who is he?"  
"How rude of me to forget. Percy Weasley, allow me to introduce Tom. Tom, this is Percy Weasley."   
  
//Hold the phone!// Percy thought. Then //Phone? I've never even used a phone. Oh great. That's Dad's influence right there. Next thing you know I'll be using paper money...//  
  
"I'm sorry, but here most be some mistake. You can't intend to leave him here- with me?"  
"Actually I did." Percy was floored.  
"I can't take responsibility for him! Besides, I'm awful with children- with people in general. Ask Fred. Ask George. Ask anybody. Everybody."   
  
Percy was frantic now. They couldn't possibly mean to hand the care of this boy over to him. He'd never so much as considered having a pet, let alone being responsible for a human being he'd never met before. This was insane!   
  
Dumbledore looked horribly downcast. "Oh. I see." He beckoned to Tom. The boy walked over to him slowly, a bit awkwardly, like he wasn't used to using his legs. Dumbledore rested his hands on Tom's shoulders. "I understand, Percy. It's a heavy burden. Perhaps you can help me decide where I am to send Tom now?"   
  
Tom looked up at Percy, eyes absorbing the light eerily and Percy saw in his eyes nothing but innocence and a complete loss as to what was going on. This boy was scared. What would his fate be if Percy refused him? Percy's resolve wavered then vanished and he accepted defeat. //Dear God, why me?//  
  
"He can stay, but eventually you *will* explain everything," he said.  
"Oh, of course," Dumbledore said. "Eventually."  
***  
  
There's more to come, darlings. I promise!  
  
Love,  
J. Silver 


	2. A Small Understanding is Better than Non...

A/N: After a long, unplanned hiatus, I have retunred. *evil grin* Thank you so much for continuing to review my assorted stories. It reminded me of what wonderful people we have in our fandom...especially the slashy corner of it.  
  
Thank you Pepperjack Candy (Really? I love Tom. He has so much potential.), npetrenko, Cedar, Cinead Born of Fire, Mordain (*laughs* I do hope that you've stuck around for this bit. I'll try to make it as interesting as I can.), Nimloth, Cindy, Kazza, Bibayb, anonymity, theMuse, and spelldome.   
  
To continue...  
  
***  
  
Life was bizarre after that. Every morning Remus Lupin came to tutor Tom. Moody left the office at noon to run Tom through his training. Three days a week Severus stopped by and taught Tom how to "brew glory and stopper death", sometimes extending the lesson well past midnight. Tom studied constantly, but he never complained. In fact he never spoke, save to answer a question or utter a spell. Percy would watch him study, would watch those large, haunting eyes scan down a page and the shadows the light cast upon Tom's smooth, blank face and wonder what he was thinking. But he didn't dare ask and there was always work to be done.  
  
It seemed that, unbeknownst to most people, there had been a huge spike in dark activity. That meant there were creatures to catch, laws to impose, damage to fix, and reports to cover up. Percy had never been so busy in his life. Though he was nearly always bone-tired, he loved it. He loved coordinating everyone and dispatching aurors and collecting their reports and slamming the door in Ms. Skeeter's face. He was in his element the way he hadn't been since the troll incident at Hogwarts so many years ago.  
  
But he dreaded coming home, dreaded meeting that silent boy with the seraph sweet face. Everything about Tom made Percy nervous- the slow, graceful movements of his fingers, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way he pursed his lips- it all seemed so unnatural. And Percy found himself bewitched, staring at the boy thinking //Too perfect. No scars, No flaws. He can't be real.//  
  
He went home anyway. Tonight he found Tom sitting at the little table in the corner that served as a dining room. For once, he didn't have a book in his hands. Percy sensed something was wrong immediately. "Tom?" Tom raised his eyes and the light reflected off the path of tears down his face. He smiled by way of greeting. Percy shuddered, though why, he couldn't say. "Are you okay?"  
"I was thinking."  
"What on earth could you have been thinking about that was worth crying over?" Percy demanded.  
"Nothing," the boy muttered.  
"Nothing? Tell me what qualifies as nothing." He took a chair across from Tom.  
  
He couldn't explain why he was doing what he was doing except that Tom seemed so very fragile and he'd never forgive himself-- most importantly his mum would never forgive him-- if he just ignored Tom and let the boy cry alone. So Percy just accepted it and got ready to sound paternal and imposing.  
  
"Percy, do you remember your childhood?" Tom asked carefully.   
"Of cour-" Percy started to say. Then he actually thought about it. Most of Percy's childhood was full of embarrassing incidents he didn't want to recall. Some of his adulthood was too, come to think of it. Consequently Percy didn't have many sharp memories of his childhood, more like distinct impressions and vague discomfort.  
  
"No," he finished quietly. "Not really." It seemed Tom relaxed then. It was barely perceptible. Just a slight dropping of his shoulders and the slightest curve to his lips. "Why?" Percy asked. Too late he realized that the tone of his voice should have been less suspicious and more concerned. Tom's shoulders tightened back up and he drew himself back into his chair, his back ramrod straight, like it had been beaten into him at an early age. // Great people skills there, Percy.// Percy tried again.  
  
"I'm sure it's not unusual. A person can't be expected to remember everything that happens to him. Is there something about your childhood you'd like to discuss?" //Absolutely fantastic, Weasley. Now you sound like a therapist...// Tom's tilted his head up curiously, his eyes seeming to absorb the light in a way that sent mild shivers down Percy's spine.  
"There's nothing to discuss," the boy replied flatly.  
"What do you mean?" Percy asked, furrowing his brow.  
"I don't remember any of my childhood. I can't remember where I grew up, my mother's face, my friends' names." Tom chuckled almost inaudibly. " Hell, I can't even remember my full name. My entire life, until the night Dumbledore brought me here, is just blackness."  
"Maybe you aren't trying hard enough." Tom shook his head.  
"Every night I try. I try so hard my head aches and my brain is soup. I can't remember anything I haven't been taught here."  
  
Percy was silent. Then something occurred to him. Maybe Tom had been a victim of Voldemort. (Percy had dropped that You-Know-Who nonsense a week ago. Voldemort was so much more efficient.) Maybe Dumbledore had performed a memory charm on the boy to save him from those painful memories and sent him to Percy for protection. Yes, that made sense. Maybe Tom held a vital clue of how they could finally defeat Voldemort. That's why this boy was so important. And Percy was ashamed of himself for foolishly letting his imagination run amuck and sever him from someone who needed him. When he spoke again, he did his best to be gentle.  
  
"I'm sure there's a reason. Maybe it's just what's best. In time, your memories will come back."  
"You think?" Tom asked, his voice soft and low. His gaze dropped to the table.  
"Absolutely, just don't think about it too much. It'll come in time." Tom nodded and awkwardness fell rather clumsily between them. Tom drummed his fingers upon the table. Percy fidgeted in his chair.  
  
"Say, what do you do for fun?"   
"Study," Tom replied, spreading his hands flat.  
"Seriously," Percy said, noting that Tom's hands were impeccably groomed.  
"I am serious. For fun I study the books Dumbledore left me. "   
"You sound like me when I was your age."  
"Do you know how old I am?" Tom turned his hands up. The reflected light off his immaculate palms was blinding.  
"I would guess that you're about sixteen and in desperate need of a hobby." Tom laughed, his fingers forming a steeple.  
"And who are you to tell me of hobbies, Mr. Former Head Boy and future workaholic?" Percy was taken aback. //Can't rightly argue with that one...//  
  
"I haven't been home a lot, have I?" Tom shook his head. "How's this? Tomorrow, we'll get up bright and early and leave this place."  
"And go where?"  
"It doesn't matter. Anywhere but where we're supposed to be," Percy replied with uncharacteristic spontaneity.  
"I have classes," Tom said, but a small smile flitted over his lips.  
"And I have work."   
  
There was an odd finality about their statements. Tom wouldn't neglect his education and Percy would never neglect his job and they both seemed to accept that. In the ensuing silence, they came to an understanding about one another.   
  
And nothing further needed to be said.  
  
***  
  
Comments, suggestions and criticism are always a pleasure to recieve. Be a dear and review!  
  
Much love,  
J. Silver 


End file.
